The Class Reject: A Damsel in Disguise (Featured Story)

The Untitled Sequel: Chapter 1

Author's Note: Here it is! I still need to edit for errors and other tedious blah, but this is the first chapter. It's short, so I'll probably put up the second chapter, but I'll have the actual sequel up next week as a new story. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Miren couldn't even wear a dress to her own funeral.

But in all fairness, this technically wasn't a funeral. No, what was left of her ashy remains were cremated, and placed into a fugly urn, which was currently on display before the students. She bit her lip so hard that she should have been bleeding. To say she felt conflicted was a severe understatement. On one hand, she was pleasantly surprised that St. Rosemunde cared enough to hold a memorial for her. But on the other, it felt wrong to let it continue when she was standing right here.

"Miss Miren Jideofor Eze was a bright star that was taken away too soon..." Headmaster Edsel began as he motioned to a blown-up portrait of her.

"Jideofor?" The name slid almost playfully off Jeno's lips. She wanted to scoff at him, but he quickly refocused ahead. A weird, sudden urge to pinch his hand, to make him pay attention to her, swept over her. After all, he was the one who had convinced her to stay silent—he was the one who made life more confusing than it already was.

Still, she couldn't help but look at him with fleeting glances, and allow his presence to stable her. She didn't realize how much taller he was than her, or how reassuring his stoic expression was. However, she definitely didn't realize that her fingers were stretching toward his...

But she was a boy. And they weren't together. She didn't know what they were anymore...

They had barely touched when Headmistress Castro cleared her throat. "As Dr. Edsel was saying, the tragic loss of Miss Eze will haunt us all forever," the woman began as she looked over the crowd, her eyes glazed over with annoyance as she frowned. "She had so much potential, and I deplore the fact that we're here speaking of what she could have been, when her gifts should have been actualized. Due to the nature of this tragedy, I have arranged for a grief counselor to share some words. Would Dr. Everett please take the stage?"

"This is fucked up," Wallace, who was standing next to Jeno, said. But his eyes were on Chara, who was trying not to look mortified on the other side of the garden with the girls. The mood was a lot like the gray sky, a somber mix of good intentions and tragedy. But naturally, most of the students preferred it to class.

"I know," Miren spoke, shifting forward. "Maybe I should just—"

"Don't you dare." Jeno gripped her arm. She felt a rush of electricity and immediately hated herself for it.

Enraged eyes found his. "Do you think this is a fucking game?!"

But she had spoken too loudly, and a couple of stray glances fell in her direction. Her cheeks heated up in humiliation.

"This is a funeral for fucking sake, Jeno." Parker's voice cut through the silence as he made it to the stage. His eyes were fixed on his rival, despite the harsh glares of the headmasters on his back. He continued to ignore them as he led Artemis on stage.

Jeno's ember eyes narrowed on Miren, but she refused to look away. What? He was mad at her because Parker was justifiably upset? Good. He was forcing her to participate in her own funeral, after all.

"What are they doing up there?" she turned to Wallace as he shrugged.

"Parker mentioned something about the homecoming queen and king having to send a positive message for the cameras." He pointed to the Channel 7 News van. "Makes you wonder who today is really about." Miren clenched her jaw as she considered his words.

Penelope.

She was the one responsible for all of this, and she didn't even have the decency to be here. No. Instead, the girl was off in New York City, being interviewed by some Barbara Walters clone about the anti-bullying, anti-depression, anti-she-didn't-actually-give-a-fuck organization she conveniently started two weeks ago. Naturally, it would be wrong if someone didn't capitalize on Miren's "untimely demise".

"On behalf of Miren's Memorial, the students of St. Rosemunde and Rinzen Academy wanted to offer this engraved gravestone." Parker motioned to the object on a roller cart as Artemis took off the sheet covering it. He sucked in a breath before motioning to the inscription:

Here Lies Miren Jideofor Eze, a Beautiful Life Taken Away Too Soon.

Rest in Everlasting Peace

Miren's heart ached as she watched Parker's eyes line with tears. But she quickly swallowed down her feelings. There was no longer a place for them. She had made her choice, even if she hated herself for it.

"It was designed by Theodora Zolotov and Chara Tachibana," Artemis then informed the crowd, before turning toward the urn, the sky. A sigh escaped her. "I know that you're gone, Miren. But I hope you know that you did have friends here. And we're so sorry for not being better to you. You deserved so much more than this." Tears had already spilled from her eyes, but she ignored them, forcing herself to be strong as she gripped Parker's shoulder to steady herself. She breathed in the somber air before motioning to Father Erickson, who took his cue to take the stage.

The priest shared some thoughtful, but ultimately useless words of encouragement. Sister Francesca led a hymn. The headmasters told them that they had the rest of the day off to mourn. Then that was that. It was over.

And Miren's personal hell on earth could resume.

Thoughts? Concerns? Objections? Please let me know and  follow me on twitter (https://twitter.com/UC_Kalu) if you tweet.